Little Death - Rewritten
by painted-on-silence
Summary: Life isn't easy; but maybe with the help of good friends, some awful clumsiness and a helping hand, managing it can be made somewhat easier. You Me At Six - Dan Flint/OC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One~

I awoke with a start, sweat drenching my sleep-ravaged body. It was the same dream. It was always the same dream, replaying like a twisted sit-com episode inside my head.

Sitting up with a groan, I checked the time on my phone;

7.28.

I scrubbed a clammy hand over my face. My alarm was going to go off in a couple of minutes any way so I flopped back down onto my pillow with a sigh. It didn't feel as though I'd had the recommended eight hours sleep; I could have sworn it was only half eleven a blink ago. Closing my eyes, I contemplated the idea of staying in bed for the day, as the sensation of closed eyes made me realise how little sleep eight hours felt like any more. But alas, as The Vaccines say; 'I don't want to wake up in the morning but I've got to face the day.'

If I could do anything; anything in the world I would get rid of alarms. To be specific, I'd get rid alarms on a Monday morning. Seriously; as if getting up weren't painful enough.

Having a cheery early morning song does however make rising slightly more tolerable. So when The Bee Gees came blaring from my phone I merely groaned, nightmare already fading into near non-recollection, stretched and sat up once more. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I surveyed the dumping ground that was my room and, with a noise that resembled 'blargle', stood.

As I stumbled around the bomb site, I mumbled along with the retro song that continued to play; 'Well you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man, no time for talk.'

"Daisy!" my roommate, Abi, obviously hearing my alarm going off, called from downstairs, "you want some bacon?"

"Do you need to ask?!" I shouted back, the mention of food causing both my mind and my stomach to brighten. Her distant laughter echoed up the stairs.

I loved Abi. She'd been one of my best friends since primary school when she shoved Melanie Andrews' face into the sandpit for calling me a 'pathetic little mong whose face belonged on an anteater.' Looking back on it now, I don't know whether I want to praise her imaginative insult or sit on her sand-filled face until she resembled a crab but hey; without it, mine and Abi's friendship would have never blossomed. So thanks Melanie Andrews – I suppose.

Sixth form was going to kill me; looking for something clean, respectable and not lined with creases was a task that was becoming increasingly harder to complete. Diving deep into the clothes-mountain that had formed in the corner I pulled out a pair of skinny jeans and a non-wrinkled top and pulled them on, still hazy from sleep but the promise of food pulling me downstairs.

The sweet, succulent scent of simmering bacon caught my nostrils, calling its siren song (or… scent) to it.

My feet wandered of their own accord to the kitchen and took me to a seat on the little island in the middle of the room. Abi was stood at the cooker, singing along under her breath to a little tinny radio blaring out some indie record I didn't know.

'Mmmm, bacon,' I mumbled and Abi laughed again, before putting enough bacon on my plate to feed 5000; like a reincarnated Jesus – only better; she had bacon. She left to get ready, though she could have gone in her pyjamas and still knocked every boy dead.

After I'd all but licked my plate clean of anything edible, I retreated back upstairs to organise my books and stuff. Lucky for me the heaviest books were mine to lug around all day. A quick check of the timetable and a brush run through my hair and I was ready to evaporate.

I grabbed my trusty iPod and phone from the table, adjusted my backpack and left, shoving my ear-buds as I went. I took my time selecting a song as Abi and I headed for her beaten Ford, not wanting it to be too depressing or too happy for a day I could sense was going to be reasonably appalling. After much internal deliberation in which I threatened to stab myself in the placenta multiple times, I pressed play.

Abi's 'Swag-mobile' attracted several longing stares from the lower-year walker – as usual. Her parents had bought it for her 17th birthday, brand new and she loved it like a child. She parked up near the reception and we headed up to our group's haunt at the top of the school.

Kill me now.

Abi flaunted her impossibly long legs walking up the impossibly steep steps, her legs looking even more impossibly long in her black flowery skirt; blonde hair was curled to perfection. Just as the boys were coming into view, she started what she called 'The Strut', swinging her hips a little more and popping her chest out. Oh, she was out to turn heads today. But there was only one in particular she cared about. And that was Josh.

Josh Franceschi was the hottest boy to roam these halls – unofficially, although I'm fairly sure that there's an official Josh fan club amongst the younger girls. With the tousled quiff and captain-of-the-football-team status, not to mention the fact that his singing voice was the mixture of a mermaid and Jesus, he practically owned the school.

He also happened to be my best friend; which is why I could scream like a banshee and attack-hug him from behind without him freaking out on me – much.

"Miss me, pal?" he laughed and enveloped me in a cocoon of man smell before pulling on my hand to begin our ritualistic ultra-secret handshake which had been around since we'd first become friends.

Once, a girl – a member of the Fan-ceschi club I suspected – asked if we were going out and I had laughed in their face. Now, don't get me wrong, Josh is an extremely attractive boy, but the thought of us together… it's so just wrong. Like incest.

Josh released me and gave an enthusiastic wave to Abi, grinning broadly which was retaliated. Abi gave me a strange look as Josh turned back into the literal friendship circle, one that confused me. She knew Josh and I were close and she knew that that was all. No need for her to get all bitchy.

The confusion faded as I greeted the others, cracking jokes, telling them (mainly Max) that no, they could not touch my boob and no, there was still nothing I would do for 50p and other such nonsensical things.

While Matt was in the middle of a particularly hilarious story involving him and a bear, I noticed a lone figure stood up against the wall, a few metres away from our group.

He seemed to be looking down at his phone, earphones trailing from the top. I wondered what he was listening to. His posture was aggressively poor; a cocky yet enticing look was set upon his face as his foot tapped to the beat of the unheard music. The black polo shirt and low slung jeans hugged his frame in all the right places. Beneath a grey beanie his blonde hair stuck out wildly, making me fight the urge to run my hands through it. His arms caught my lower lip beneath my teeth; leanly muscular, a host of tattoos lined his right. I wondered what it was like to be held in them. Everything about him just screamed 'I don't give a fuck, just fuck me.' And I'll be damned if I didn't want to.

In my mind a thousand situations had already run through; most explicit enough to make me blush.

His eyes shifted to mine, as though he sensed my gaze. They scorched into mine with an intensity that knocked me off balance and out of breath. They were blue and deep like an ocean, yet something about them burned me like a fire. They were glorious.

Rather abruptly, I was wrenched from my little staring competition by Josh clicking his fingers in my face. Annoyed, I turned towards Josh with a glare. He recoiled, hands held up in surrender.

When I looked back to the boy, I saw him smirking at me, his eyebrow raised as if to say 'I won.'

I hated losing.

Turning back towards Josh, I asked him who the boy was – Josh was a sucker for gossip.

"What?" he looked over my head and spotted who I was talking about, "Leaning against the wall? Beanie? Looking like a threat to society? Funny you should mention him, Big D," he professed with a grin, tossing a careless arm over my shoulder, "That charming-looking young gentleman is actually my new neighbour, Mr Daniel Flint. My dearest mother has commanded me to keep an eye on him but has not given me a reason why. Has that satisfied your hungering curiosity for now, my dear?"

I rolled my eyes and he gave a laugh before returning to the rabble, leaving me to my thoughts.

There was something about him though, something sad, that cried out. Something that desired to be held and kept warm and have comforting whispers in its ear; and I found myself longing to hold him, to keep him warm and whisper in his ear that it would be ok…

I shook my head. What was I talking about? I didn't even know him.

I told myself one more glance, but when I looked up, he was gone.

I didn't even know him. Daniel Flint.

But I wanted to.


	2. Chapter 2

The day belonged to Daniel Flint; his blue eyes, his sultry smirk and his tapping foot. I couldn't seem to shake him from my mind.

Abi noticed my distraction in every lesson I had with her and had to constantly kick me beneath the table to get my attention. She was grudgingly dedicated to the task. In fact, I think she began to enjoy it. Josh's name was the subject of conversation the majority of the time and as the lessons went on, his name became wearisome to my ears. Thoughts of Dan became a welcome relief so I began tuning out, picking up bits and pieces.

"…He puts no kisses to you in a text but like, three to me; do you think that means he's more comfortable around you? Three kisses seems kind of formal…"

I give a vague nod.

"…Josh is really playful to you but like when he turns to me it kind of feels forced and awkward…"

I 'mmm' concernedly. And so it goes on.

The bell blessedly rang and I stood, stretching my arms, trying not to seem too relieved that it was lunch and I had the chance to talk to the boys – and Josh, both about Abi and Mr Flint.

We both headed towards the door.

"…Sometimes I just wish he'd sweep me off my feet, you know?" Abi sighed behind me.

"Mmhmm…" I mumbled ineptly, eyes fixed on trying to jam the earphone cable into the socket at the top of my phone, juggling the weight my folder and books awkwardly. Rosie knew better than to send me a song to listen to during a lesson.

I was still fiddling with my earphones whilst simultaneously listening to Abi and also walking through the door of the classroom when I went crashing into somebody. The collision knocked me, the other person, my phone and my books to the floor with a cacophony of clatters and curses.

A low groan from beside me made me wince; apologies spilled over my lips profusely, relentlessly. My hair fell into my face as I scrambled to pick up my phone, thankfully undamaged and shoved both books and folders alike into my bag in a hurry to escape the awkwardness my own ineptitude had created.

A warm hand grasped my forearm and helped me to my feet.

The apologies had yet to stop. Somebody put a plug or something in my mouth, I'm making it worse.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, it was all my fault, I wasn't looks where I was going and I was playing with my phone which is against school rules anyway and-"

"Hey," said the victim of my clumsiness - I had yet to inspect them for damage – "it's not a problem. You didn't damage the goods."

I cast a disparaging look at the guy for his words, not recognising the voice as one of the usual douches that lurk in the corridor and- oh god. It was Daniel. If someone could lock me in a coffin, throw that coffin in the sea, call Davy Jones and tell him that I'd like to spend eternity aboard the Flying Dutchman, it would be much appreciated.

"You're new."

And they're off! – to a miserable start.

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, "That obvious, is it? Yeah."

The words seemed to have lost the edge of cockiness now and sounded nervous and awkward – although I'm probably giving off awkward vibes like a nuclear reactor. It's like the Chernobyl of Awkward around me sometimes.

"Oh well, I'm Daisy, Daisy Bridges," I introduced myself with a jittery smile, "If you ever need anything, um, I'm here to help."

"Well, that's nice to know Daisy, Daisy Bridges. I'm Dan – Flint. Pleasure," he said, stretching out his hand in greeting, with a glimmer in his eye that claimed mischief, "I might just have to take you up on that offer." He continued as I shook his hand. His fingers clasped around mine, squeezing ever so slightly, causing tremors of heat to travel up my arm. I couldn't help but feel a sense of intimacy– it was only a handshake. And if I'm not mistaken, his words had taken on a flirtatious tone. I was a little rusty at flirting.

"It may sound impossible, given the awesomeness that I am," he gestured to his body and raised his eyebrows, "but I'm actually struggling to find anywhere. Maybe you'd help me?" Plastered on his face was a wolfish grin.

"Well, if you go to the office, they'll be sure to give you a map or perhaps a Dora the Explorer who can guide you round. They're much more qualified than me, and you seem like the guy who wants the best." I bantered, the words falling easier than I suspected they would.

"But you strike me as the kind of girl who really knows her way around."

"Not the school, I don't."

I relaxed a little more.

"So I suppose you just fall for everyone then!" he huffs but the humour in his eyes gives it away.

"Not everyone, no. Only those I think worthy. Perhaps next time I can take you on a trip to Floorida." Oh my god, someone please shut my brain up. Puns are totally not sexy. My cheeks burned with mortification.

But Dan laughs, loudly and heartily earning some irksome looks from the stragglers in the hall. I find that I do not care about the looks because it was worth it to hear Dan laugh; to hear him laugh because I made him laugh. A smile that had been planted on my face since my introduction blossomed into a full blown toothy grin.

Behind me, I heard someone clearing their throat. I turned to see Abi – I'd forgotten all about her – staring pointedly between Dan and I, with her teeth caught on her bottom lip and her eyebrows raised – she'd seen the entire flirtation.

I swivelled back to face Dan and set about acquainting the two.

"Dan, this is my best friend Abigail."

"Abi, please," she smiled as she stepped forward with her hand outward.

"Abi, this is Dan Flint," I gestured to him.

When their hands met in the shake, I worried my bottom lip with my teeth, eyes locked on their joined hands. A sudden insecure jealousy came over me. Did she feel that same affinity that I felt when we touched? Was her heart aflutter when his smile was aimed at her? Had she forgotten all about me as I had? In my head, I was chanting 'no, no, no, no' like a mantra. She liked Josh. She liked Josh.

They broke hands; the whole thing lasted about a second and a half.

"So Abi; is Daisy here always that clumsy or is it just a special occasion?" Dan's eyes locked on mine, despite the question being aimed elsewhere.

"Oh yes, honestly I'd cover her in bubble wrap if I didn't think she'd find a way to break something through it," she nudged me playfully to which I gave a mock-outraged cry.

"Hey, I'm not that bad!"

"Well," he said, edging a millimetre closer to me, "I'd best make sure to be around to catch you then."

The laugh I was going to give got caught in my throat. My fingers twitched. I found myself wishing I were as bad a klutz as Abi made me out to be. I had visions of me in his arms and I wanted it more than anything.

"Sorry, position's taken," another voice, a harsh baritone, joined the conversation.

My head whipped around, hoping against everything that it wasn't who I thought but knowing it was futile – Scott was stood in the middle of the corridor on my right, observing with a dark smile.

The friendly warmth that had played in the air froze over, replaced by a palpable tension. I noticed Dan's smile fading, his back straightening as he took in the new face on the scene.

"Sorry?" Dan's brow furrowed as he turned to face Scott.

"Oh, nothing," Scott shrugged and moved a step closer to me, "just this daisy here used to have a thing for me, and I for her, and I ended it and well, I'm afraid she's just not over it."

Abi let out a furious, 'bullshit!' to my left and I shrunk in on myself to get away from him.

"She's a sweet young thing, a little succubus this one. Fell right for her little plan to seduce me, I did. Not that I regret it. I can't deny that it felt good to be the first to pluck little daisy–"

He'd moved close enough to me that he could stretch his arm out and drape it over my shoulder. Cringing away, I lit the fuse on the Abi-bomb and she not-so-subtly barged in between us, keeping the gap wide between Scott and me.

Glancing up, I saw Dan looking tense, his fists balled up at his side, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his eyes locked on Scott. If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

Scott however was smiling, his eyes now on Abi, "But alas, Abigail Halliday was always there to interrupt. What a cock-block. To be honest, I always thought she was jealous. Wanted to have a go, didn't you Abi?" he pulled at his crotch suggestively and Abi turned away in disgust, gagging on her finger. Her reaction made me smile, allowed me to stand up a little straighter.

Obviously seeing his attempt at intimidation failing, Scott turned to face Dan; "Sorry man, I don't even know your name. I'm Scott Benson." He held out his hand in greeting.

"Dan Flint," Dan replied tightly. He offered no hand in return, just stared at the one offered.

Scott's smirk disappeared and his eyebrows rose. His hand stayed where it was for a few seconds more before wavering and dropping down to his side. Wow.

I'd never seen him give up or be beaten like that.

"'Til we meet again then Danny-boy," he said before striding off back the way he had appeared. Letting out a sigh of relief, I looped my arm with Abi's. "Oh," he called over his shoulder, "and watch yourself mate – daisies are actually a weed you know. And once a weed, always a weed." His smirk was back.

"Don't worry about me mate." Dan snapped back with a roll of his eyes.

Until he had truly disappeared from sight, the tension remained, thick and

"What a tool," muttered Dan, looking at the floor with a frown.

"You're telling me," Abi snorted, "I had to deal with that dick for the entire half-year they were together. Still don't understand how it happened in the first place if I'm honest."

What the hell? I shot a warning look at Abi to shut up.

"So you and he–" blurted out Dan, gesturing with his hand at me and the direction in which the horrific excuse of a human being had travelled. His eyes widened and I got the feeling that he hadn't intended to say that out loud, "I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

His now stumbling words sent waves of Déjà vu running through me and I couldn't help but give a chuckle and shake my head. Dan seemed to relax a little at my response although still looked a tad awkward.

"Not that I'm not interested in that part of your- never mind." He rambled quickly and judging from his flaming cheeks, this also was not part of the plan. Laughing and muttering something under his breath, he scuffed his foot along the floor and looked at me from under his lashes with a smile – which I returned. He was almost the complete opposite of how we'd started the conversation, so boyish and cute now, instead of an arrogant sexy. I'd seen so many sides of this one boy in such a short space of time; it was all but giving me whiplash. But I liked these different personas, each so Dan yet giving him more dimensions, like the facets of a diamond; just adding to its realness.

So as I made Abi and my farewells, conscious of the time and promising to be of definite service to him in the future should he need it, I couldn't keep the smile off my face from growing exponentially bigger. I also couldn't help but glance back over my shoulder as we headed towards the canteen. Dan was looking directly at me and, when I stumbled over my own foot whilst walking, gave a laugh and waggled his index finger.

Vowing to face forward so as not to give him more leave to laugh, I discovered that I did not feel embarrassed, despite my awkward tripping disturbing an otherwise rom-com worthy moment.

Abi nudged my rib playfully and I realised that I now was facing the verbal Spanish Inquisition about everything and anything that could or could not possibly happen from this encounter.

Oh boy.


End file.
